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Amidst the morning bells of an ancient temple, an old sandalwood tree dreams an ancient dream.
Its grains are steeped in the warm scent of sutras, chanting voices etched into its bark, crystallizing into amber-hued memories. Within those memories, blazing sunlight once kissed every growth ring, wrapping the sandalwood's fragrance in warmth that never fades through time.
The piquant zest of pink pepper intertwines with cedarwood's steadfast depth, like dancing flames in an old temple's incense burner—igniting the wood's fiery aroma. The richness of timber deepens amidst floral notes, as if years of burning incense have transformed prayers into warm whispers of smoke.
In twilight's embrace, the sandalwood's final notes resemble a moonlit censer. From its lingering warmth arises cedar-like clarity, while faint smoke curls upward as time flows serene. All slows down—all grows warm.